


Dancing Queen

by caleco



Series: Sansan One-Shots [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Internet Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23590765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caleco/pseuds/caleco
Summary: At his coworker’s insistence, LAPD Officer Sandor Clegane makes a TikTok account for the dogs in his K-9 Unit. Is it terribly stupid? Yes. Is it a way to make him feel incredibly old? Another yes.Is he going to keep watching @sansastark and her dancing videos?Another strong yes.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane & Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Series: Sansan One-Shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697629
Comments: 17
Kudos: 156





	Dancing Queen

**Author's Note:**

> So my little sister finally got me to download TikTok and I definitely got some inspiration for this story from that. I’m only 23 and it still makes me feel hella old. This is definitely going to be humorous and fluffy, don’t expect any angst!
> 
> As always, read and enjoy! Comments are amazing :)

When Sandor found himself saying yes to his coworker, he wondered if this was maybe, finally, the end. This would mark his final descent into madness, the point he’d look back at, years into the future, with his therapist. He was sure of it.

But Tormund had looked so damn happy, that wild, slightly creepy grin on his face. His partner had more than a few screws loose, but the dogs loved him. 

In the back, Stranger whined, almost sensing his owner’s predicament.  _ Yeah, I know, big guy. _

__ “You know how to download apps on your phone?” Tormund asked, unstrapping his vest from his body.

“Of course I fucking do,” Sandor snapped back. He wasn’t eighty- he was just reaching his late twenties, actually, but some of his coworkers acted like he lived in the countryside with no electricity.

Tormund raised his hands defensively. “Alrighty then. You can put up a video tomorrow.”

“What am I even supposed to film?” He growled, throwing his equipment back into his locker.

“They’re dogs, Sandor. Anything’ll work.” Tormund offered, giving him a mocking salute with his fingers. He left the building before Sandor could snap anything back, his large German Shepherd lapping at his heels.

“Got any tricks?” Sandor grumbled to Stranger, sitting patiently behind him. It was their evening routine- Sandor packed up his work shit, and Stranger pretended like he wasn’t chomping at the bit for the steak he’d get at home. Sandor always rewarded him a little more on days he did good.

Today, he’d sunk his jaws right into the arm of some crack dealer they’d caught on Front street. Sandor had never been prouder, beaming at his mutt with an unabashed proudness. 

But Sandor had also seen little kids cry at the sight of his dogs, running back into their parent’s arms; Sandor didn’t have a problem with it. They were for work, not for cuddling and kissing on little kids.

Even though Stranger did occasionally sleep in his bed with him, but Sandor was going to keep that knowledge strictly to himself.

Tormund had insisted that they try and change the public’s perception on their dogs, though; and at the first mention of TikTok, Sandor had turned his nose up.

“What in gods name is that?” He’d snorted. Tormund had thrown up a bright, hyperactive app on his phone; by the time the second video of some girl dancing rolled up, Sandor had vetoed the idea completely.

“C’mon. It’ll be gold- half these videos are adorable animals anyways.” Tormund had insisted.

“And our dogs are ‘adorable’?” Sandor had let out a sharp laugh at that- he’d seen Tormund’s dog, Shella, almost rip the leg off a man who’d pulled a gun on her owner the other day. ‘Adorable’ wasn’t the first thing that came to mind.

“See,” Tormund said, shoving a finger in his face. “That’s exactly it- people think they’re bloodthirsty creatures.”

“I wouldn’t say they  _ aren’t.”  _

__ “We’ve got to show that they’re-” Tormund waved his hands, struggling for a word. “-the good guys.”

Sandor had snorted into his coffee after that, choosing to end the conversation there. But after a long day on the job, seeing his dogs out there in the field- he’d been thinking more about it.

A week later, he begrudgingly agreed to the ordeal. To make matters worse, Tormund refused to film and maintain the account, which sent Sandor into a foul mood.

“Would you rather be in front of the camera?” Tormund had asked cheekily.

Sandor had shut up at that.

\------------

After a few takes, he had his first video.

It was a simple one, a slow-mo shot of Shella jumping through the open window of their cruiser, quickly joining Stranger’s side. Sandor wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he’d definitely had to google how to take slow-motion shots. More than once.

And after that, he officially posted it to the app.

His phone kept dinging after that, annoying the hell out of him.  _ How the fuck do people keep up with this? _

__ And the comments. They were all so weird, all so unintelligible to him.

_ babies!!!! _

__ _ doggy said go big or go home _

__ _ i would die for her _

__ _ namesssssssss _

__ “Am I supposed to respond to this shit?” Sandor grumbled, thumbing through the hundreds of comments they’d gotten over the day. Beside him, Tormund was gripping the wheel excitedly, his face a smug, wild grin.

“They love ‘em. I fuckin’  _ told  _ you, Clegane.” The redhead responded.

“It’s one video. Can’t last forever.” Sandor said back. He threw his thumb to the two dogs in the back. “They got a limited number of tricks.”

“Don’t try and understand the internet.”

\-------------

Sure enough, after a month of videos, the content was going even stronger; the response was staggering. Sandor had quickly learned to turn off all the notifications from the application, pretending like it didn’t even exist except to upload a daily video. 

He’d grumbled at first, at all the comments they had for Stranger. He was in fact, not a fluffy black cloud, he did not deserve to eat bacon for every meal, and he sure as hell did not need a sweater, contrary to literally every comment they’d gotten.

But Tormund was right- it was working, in a way. A few times they’d been out on a case, and someone had recognized the dogs. They’d immediately referred to them as  _ puppies,  _ which Sandor did not appreciate. He had to slap away their hands and threaten arrest- which Tormund later got onto him for- but they hadn’t been terrified of the two, 150-lb dogs.

Thumbing through his phone before bed one night, he idly remembered Tormund had asked for a view count earlier that day. It was for the day’s video- Stranger in his K-9 Unit vest, Sandor’s pair of aviator sunglasses perched on his face. 

It’d gotten just under a million views, which was pretty average for them nowadays. Sandor had no idea how many people could get on the app, let alone watch the video that much in less than twenty-four hours- gods, this generation was doomed.

His big thumb slipped to the Following tab, showing an assortment of videos he sure as hell  _ wasn’t  _ following. He’d made a point to avoid the app altogether.

He squinted at the first video- it was another one of those dancing ones, some weirdass pop hip-hop songs starting up. But he’d admit that it wasn’t the music that made him keep watching.

The dancer was stunning, a lithe, seemingly tall woman; she had waist-length red hair, framing a pale face and blue, blue eyes. Sandor didn’t understand dancing in the least bit, but he could tell she was  _ good-  _ the way her hips moved so effortlessly with her body, her entire form just a rotating, fluid system. In the middle of it, she lifted her arms above her head, twisting her hips, and a pink tongue came out to wet red, red lips.

He quickly shut the app, his face flushed. 

\---------------

“They’re doing an article about us,” Tormund said excitedly.

“What’s there to do an article about,” Sandor grumbled over his cup of coffee. Tormund was always incredibly awake and enthusiastic at 7am, as soon as they arrived at the precinct.

Tormund scoffed. “Our bloody adorable dogs.”

“They’re not  _ adorable.”  _ Sandor said defensively, slamming his coffee cup down.

“Fine. But they’re famous, and it makes them  _ and  _ us look good, so we’re gonna ride this train as much as we can.” Tormund shot back with a grin.

Sandor let him do the talking on that one. The reporters brought a photographer with them, to take a few action shots of the dogs. Sandor squinted at them. The dogs were getting too fuckin’ spoiled.

\-------------

After dinner, Sandor nursed a cold beer while flipping through the news channels.

He didn’t allow himself alcohol often- he and Tormund’s job was relatively demanding, and he’d also always focused on a healthy body. Working out often, curbing his drinking habit, and eating relatively healthy had been his main focus. But hell, after that annoying interview today, he needed a damn drink.

Before he could stop himself, he slid open the app on his phone.

He only had to scroll through a few videos to find the girl again, back on the main page. Gods, she had nearly double the likes of the dogs’ page, just on one video.

Sandor looked over at Stranger’s sleeping form on the floor, feeling a little guilty.

This time she was dressed completely different, her red hair in big waves, donning a pair of bell-bottomed jeans and a yellow crop-top. When she moved, he saw the slight glint of jewelry on her belly-button. He hadn’t  _ meant  _ to look, alright- but when she stretched out, his eyes were drawn to that flat, pale expanse of stomach.

And he’d actually recognized the song for once-  _ Dancing Queen  _ by ABBA. 

She didn’t get a chance to finish her song, though- a large dog, husky by the look of it, jumped on her at the end, sending her into a fit of silent giggles.

When she smiled, it was so warm and friendly and happy that he almost believed she was doing this shit because she  _ liked  _ it, not for the fame and (probably) the money.

He actually looked at her username this time-  _ @sansastark. _

__ _ Sansa.  _ It was light, airy and flowery. He didn’t dare say it aloud.

He clicked on the profile, though. He would be ashamed if Tormund knew what he was doing. He wasn’t being  _ that  _ gross- he wasn’t wanking off to her, wasn’t building some fuckin’ shrine to her. He was just curious, was all. She looked to be in her twenties, anyways.

There was another video from yesterday- she was in a navy denim dress, her hair in some weird kind of buns he couldn’t quite understand. This time she was dancing with a tall, lanky man with blondish hair, their movements almost perfectly in sync. At the end, he leaned in to kiss her cheek, and she pushed him away with a laugh.

_ Boyfriend.  _ He decided.

But the caption read differently:  _ someone needs to come wife theon up and get him out of my hair _

__ Hmm. Perhaps not then.

_ Why the fuck do I care?  _ Sandor scoffed at himself, shutting down the app on impulse. For one, she was a spoiled little vain girl, popular on some app for teenagers. Secondly, she was one-hundred-percent off limits, entirely out of her league. He didn’t get his position at top of the K-9 unit for being a happy, approachable person- and that was  _ before  _ you factored in the ugly scar on his face.

Yeah. It was best he kept that app closed.

\--------------

“You sure you don’t wanna be in the shot this time?” Tormund asked cheekily from the ground, Stranger and Shella practically on top of him, in love with his rough scratches. 

Sandor didn’t acknowledge that with a response. He’d firmly kept his decision on being  _ behind  _ the camera, and his few experiences with the app had only solidified that. Besides, their viewers loved Tormund.

Sandor shuddered at all the  _ daddy  _ comments he’d had to sift through when Tormund popped up on screen.

“We’re doing so good, they’re thinking of doing an account for the main precinct.” Tormund said, patting Shella’s head as he rose. Sandor scoffed at that.

“What’re they gonna do? Make videos of filling out paperwork and yelling at people speeding?” 

“Aye. Not everyone can have as much  _ marketability  _ as we do.” Tormund answered, wiggling his eyebrows at that. 

“Not sure I’d call it that.” Sandor responded, uploading the video of the dogs attacking Tormund, who had been donning the foam-insulated training armor. 

“I mean, if you wanted to get in front of the camera, I’m sure some of our female viewers wouldn’t mind.” Tormund said innocently. When Sandor looked sharply at him, Tormund pretended to be particularly interested in pulling the car out of the spot.

“Pretty sure we’d lose interest quick.” Sandor shot back.

“Hey now. You’ve got an ugly face, but that body-” Tormund started, that same wild smirk on his face.

“Gods. Stop. Pretend I didn’t respond-”

“-it don’t stop.” Tormund finished, to Sandor’s huge groan.

\----------------

Two days later, Sandor was already giving into his itch.

He was back on the app, flipping through the top videos to find the redhead again.

Gods, Tormund would give him so much shit- not only for being on the app, after he’d so vehemently opposed it, but also for looking for a redhead. Tormund preached that they were all the salt of the earth, and Sandor had scoffed at it every time. The man would have a field day if he knew.

Sansastark had posted a new video that day, this time surprisingly  _ not  _ a dancing one. Instead, she was trying to balance on her hands, the video made up of dozens of shots of her failing. There was a small, wiry brunette to the side, each time trying to help- and laugh- at the redhead.

The caption read:  _ i’ll never be a gymnast like @aryawolf but you can’t say i didn’t try _

__ Sandor felt the tips of his lips quirk upwards into a smile, watching the girl fall continuously, usually breaking into a fit of giggles. For once, the sound wasn’t music, and he was able to listen to the sound. High and breathy, melodious and nice. A little bird.

Even more than that, she was dressed down today, just in a huge t-shirt and a pair of fitted leggings. She looked like she wasn’t wearing make-up, either, though Sandor knew shit about that. He was more amazed at the fact that she didn’t look polished and put together, instead just happy and comfortable in his own skin.

He definitely wasn’t sure how  _ that  _ felt.

\----------------

The next day, Tormund and Sandor were going down the interstate after responding to a disturbance outside city hall; by the time they’d gotten there, it was broken up, much to Tormund’s dismay. 

As Tormund carefully toed the line between lawful and going way-too-fucking-fast, Sandor surveyed the road in front of them. It was a rather hot day in California, the summer weather hitting the city like a truck; most people were off the roads on the late Sunday afternoon, which lent for a rather laid-back ride.

In the distance, he saw a car on the side of the road; Tormund made to move into the other lane, but Sandor stopped him.

“Looks like they’re having trouble changing the tire.” Sandor grumbled, raising an eye at the scene. 

“I mean, I guess we can stop. Just in case.” Tormund mused. “Not much else on the schedule right now.

“Yeah, might as well.” Sandor responded, squinting his eyes at the scene as they came closer. Tormund signaled, moving the car slightly onto the shoulder of the road, slowing down gradually.

As they got closer, Sandor noticed a figure hunched down by the far side of the car, staring at the tire. He first saw a flash of red hair, and his mind immediately went to Sansa, though it made him cringe. 

But then she turned her head at the cop car, noticing them for the first time, and Sandor’s heart stopped in his chest. A sharp jawline, pale skin, and long, red hair. 

“Actually I think they’re alright.” Sandor said quickly. “I think we can just get back on the road-”

“Nonsense, Sandor. She looks like she needs help.” Tormund insisted, giving his friend an odd look.

“This isn’t our job-” Sandor grumbled, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Listen, man, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but we’re going to help her.” Tormund shot back, putting the car into park behind the black car in front of them.  _ Sansa’s  _ car.

Sandor must’ve sounded less than enthusiastic, so Tormund squinted at the girl in front of them, rounding the back of her car to greet them. Tormund chuckled.

“C’mon, Sandy, can’t you handle a beautiful woman?” Tormund gave him a wink, slipping out of the driver’s seat and leaving Sandor to curse in his absence.

Well. He didn’t have much of a choice now.

“-yeah, I’m so sorry you had to stop! I don’t have a spare, so I’ve been calling my brother, but I think he’s kind of busy.” Sansa said nervously; she didn’t talk much in her videos, and her voice was just as smooth and melodic as her laugh. Sandor felt like hiding under a rock.

“It’s alright, my friend Sandor here can try and help.” Tormund said, shooting Sandor a grin that he  _ knew  _ held a bit of smugness in it. He fought the urge to snap at him in front of the girl.

He couldn’t believe it was Sansa Stark in front of him, in the flesh; if anything, she was more stunning in person. He could see the freckles over her nose, could see the way her sundress clung to her figure, could see just how tall she was in person. Gods, if it was one thing he liked, it was a tall woman.

But she was practically some fuckin’ supermodel, and he was a grumpy K-9 unit officer with a fucked up face. He set his mouth into a thin line.

“I’ll take a look, ma’am.” He said, taking the chance to turn away from her. He was amazed that she hadn’t even faltered at his scars; she just gave him that stupid, broad smile, like he was important or some shit.

He knelt down to the car- it wasn’t anything fancy, which surprised him. He’d expected a spoiled girl to have a fancy little sports car, not a normal, economic black car.

He found the problem in an instant, a nail piercing straight through the front right tire.

Sandor touched the rusty nail, shooting a glance up at Sansa, his brow raised. She blushed a furious red, looking away from him.

“I’m not the  _ best  _ driver.” She said, giving him an apologetic smile.

“Well, looks like we’ll just have to take you back to the precinct with us. Can’t have you waiting in the heat like this.” Tormund said from behind her, sounding ever the polite professional; what she didn’t see, though, was the furious little thumbs-up he gave Sandor. 

“Are you sure?” She said, biting her bottom lip. It sent a rush through Sandor that he immediately shot down with a thick rush of self-hatred. It wasn’t his to lust over, that was for damn sure.

“Of course, ma’am.” Sandor finally spoke up, hoping he didn’t sound as grumpy as he felt inside.

Her face lit up, smiling gratefully at him. Not Tormund, which surprised him a little.

“Let me grab my purse.” She chirped, ducking into her passenger seat as Tormund and Sandor headed back to the cruiser.

“Fuck you.” Sandor hissed to Tormund, who pretended not to hear him, whispering some jaunty little tune.

“So you’ll have to climb in the back-” Tormund started as she came around the cruiser. Sansa just nodded, opening the door before he could finish.

“Oh!” She gasped happily at the two huge dogs in the backseat. Sandor and Tormund waited for her response, but she just calmored into the backseat, happily sitting among the two dogs. And Stranger, the damn traitor, cuddled right into her side, showing his belly.

“Am I allowed to pet them?” Sansa asked politely, and Sandor felt a rush of respect at that; people usually didn’t ask.

Technically, the answer was no. But….

“Sure. They’re spoiled enough as is.” Sandor grumbled, pretending to be busy with the paperwork of the day. He could feel her right behind him, though, could smell a faint scent of lemon and peonies behind him. Fuck.

“Hey!” Sansa said after a moment, excitement in her voice. “I know these two cuties- they’re from the LAPD K-9 Unit, right?”

Tormund made an excited noise. “Yeah! Sandor here is in charge of their account.”

“Oh my god, you guys are my favorite account out there.” Sansa gushed, her cheeks tinting pink as she went on, making eye contact with Sandor in the mirror.

“Oh yeah? You on that app a lot?” Sandor asked, kicking himself mentally. 

“A little.” Sansa said almost sheepishly, running a hand over her shiny red hair;  _ that  _ surprised him. She didn’t seem like she’d be an ass about her fame, but he definitely wasn’t expecting such modesty. Just like he wasn’t expecting the oddly  _ normal  _ car.

Before he could stick his foot in his mouth again, her phone went off.

“Hey, Robb,” Sansa breathed. There was a pause as the other end responded. “Yeah, just got a flat. But a few nice officers stopped and helped me, and they’re actually taking me back to their station. I think we’re almost there- could you meet us there?”

Another pause. “Okay, thank you so much. Love you too.”

She clicked off her phone, focusing back on Tormund and Sandor. 

“That was my brother- he’s going to meet us at the station, but he’s across town so it may be awhile.” Sansa said, a little nervous and quick. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Tormund said, grinning back at her in the mirror. “We’re always eager to have beautiful girls around the station.”

Sansa flushed at that, giving him a small smile back. Sandor rolled his eyes.

\--------------

By the time they got back to the station and unloaded the dogs, it was already reaching dinnertime. Technically, Sandor got off at five that day, but as the time rolled around, Sansa was still sitting at their spare desk.

Tormund eyed the space between them. “I’m gonna head out early Sandor, that alright?”

Sandor glared at him, knowing what he  _ really  _ wanted to say. The damn man and his bullshit matchmaking- as if he didn’t know what his partner looked like.

“Sure,” Sandor said between gritted teeth. Tormund gave him a broad grin, throwing his gear into his locker in record time.

“It was wonderful to meet you again, Sansa.” Tormund said kindly as Sansa chirped back at him. At some point, she’d moved to the edge of the chair, sitting on her hands, her legs swaying underneath her. She bit her lip, looking out into the parking lot.

“I’m sorry,” She said after a minute, fixing Sandor with those big blue eyes. “I promise he’s coming, he just-”

“It’s okay, girl. Stay as long as you need.” He said, raising a hand.

“Thank you.” She said, giving him a small smile. Sandor felt his stomach rumble, the sandwich he’d had at lunch not going very far.

“You hungry?” He asked her. She immediately shook her head, her cheeks turning that shade of pink again.

“Oh no, I’m fine-” She started, before the rumble of her own stomach interrupted her. Sandor raised his eyebrow.

“I’m gonna go next door to grab some dinner and bring it back.” He insisted. “It’s a Chinese place.”

And fifteen minutes later she was still sitting at their spare desk, looking out at the parking lot with her puppy-dog eyes. He’d dropped the bag of takeout on the desk in front of her.

She opened it with a surprising voracity; he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but from a dainty bird like her, he wasn’t expecting her to delve into a plate of sesame chicken like it was her saving grace.

Sansa gave out a moan as it hit her tongue, leaning back in her chair. Sandor was definitely not going to log that noise for later. Not at all.

“Sorry,” She said after a minute, giggling. “I haven’t had Chinese in forever.”

“That’s a shame.” He said, finishing off his first carton of fried rice. “I think Tormund and I would be dead if it weren’t for that little place next door.”

“I had no idea it was that vital for our boys in blue.” Sansa said, almost cheekily. Sandor was a little thrown off by her tone, but definitely did not discourage it. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her slender arms over her chest.

“I can’t picture you running a tiktok account.” She said slyly, popping another crab rangoon into her mouth. 

“Wish I could say the same about you.” He shot back, surprising himself.

Sansa laughed at that, full and hearty. He relaxed at the sound, happy she didn’t take his snarky comment to heart.

“What can I say.” She smiled. “It’s a guilty pleasure.”

“What do you do on there?” Sandor asked, even though he full and well knew the answer to that question.

“Well, I’ve been dancing since I was a kid. So it’s mostly dancing. It’s just a way to let loose a little, y’know?” Sansa said, almost nervously- Sandor couldn’t help but smile a little at that, hiding his look from her so she wouldn’t take it the wrong way. He would never of been able to predict the confident, beautiful dancer actually being  _ shy  _ in person. 

“Guess I can’t fault that.” He said finally.

“I mean, it’s not  _ all  _ I do.” Sansa said defensively.

“Didn’t say it was.” He shot back.

“I’m a student at the University, too.” Sansa countered, smiling shyly at him. “Marketing major.”

“Oh yeah? No dance there?” Sandor shot back, not able to keep his poking and prodding to a minimum.  _ This is why you’re single. _

__ “Hey now. I’m a dance  _ minor,  _ thank you very much.” Sansa laughed. 

Before he could come up with another witty, very-much-unlike-him comment, the front door of the station was opened, the bell ringing through the rather quiet space.

In the doorway stood the male version of Sansa- a tall auburn-haired man with the same sculpted jawline and half-smile on his face. 

“Robb! I thought you were never coming.” Sansa commented, giving him a quick hug around his neck. Robb eyed Sandor warily, taking in their many boxes of takeout between them.

“I’m sorry- there was a wreck downtown and it took forever.” The man- Robb- said, patting Sansa warmly on the back. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Oh, yeah. I had Sandor here to make sure I was all safe.” Sansa said, giving the police officer a cheeky grin over her shoulder that had him turning red this time.

Robb looked between them, wheels turning in his head, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Thank you for that, Officer.” He said, giving him a firm nod that Sandor immediately returned.

“Of course.” He said, clearing his throat. Sansa had dropped to her knees, giving Stranger a few scratches behind the head, whispering little words of adoration to him. 

“You about ready to go? I‘ve got a spare in the back to fix your car.” Robb said, eyeing his sister’s new, furry best friend. Sandor grinned at that- no matter the videos, Stranger was still a rugged, midnight black dog, probably weighing more than Sansa. He was formidable, regardless of what the commenters said.

“Yeah, just a second.” Sansa said, digging into her little purse for a pen.

To his amazement, Sansa scrawled something onto a spare takeout napkin, sliding it over to Sandor.

“Next time, I’ll show you an even better takeout place, okay?” Sansa said, suddenly the confident, bubbly girl he’d seen in her videos. She gave him another sly grin, her white teeth flashing through red lips, and then she was leaving the building, her brother shooting a glare back over his shoulder.

Sandor held the little napkin in his hands, his feet propped up onto his desk. Beside him, Stranger was snoring softly.

The handwriting was light, girly and loopy; all in a purple-colored pen. He’d definitely be texting that number tonight, before she realized it was a mistake. 

That, and watching all of her videos again. 


End file.
